


I Dreamed a Dream for You

by Staraxia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, M/M, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staraxia/pseuds/Staraxia
Summary: In which Hashirama tries his best to confess to his best friend. He gets what he wanted. In a sense.Imported elements from Harry Potter FranchiseWritten for the HashiMada Bigbang 2018 on Tumblr. Prompts: Ruin/All the Stars are Closer





	I Dreamed a Dream for You

This was it. Today was the day—he simply could not put it off any longer.

It was on an everyday morning that a young Senju Hashirama rolled out of bed with his mind clear and his eyes shining. Today, regardless of Tobirama’s complaints, regardless of Izuna’s bedeviled smile whenever he looked his way—absolutely nothing was going to stop him from confessing to his best friend and first love, Uchiha Madara.

“Hashirama, your cup’s about to break,” Mito commented from across the breakfast table. “You wouldn’t want Uchiha to have to clean up a table of broken glass when he shows up, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh!” Hashirama immediately dropped the glass as if it had burned him. He only just now noticed that his knuckles were stiff and bloodless from his death grip on the cup, and he laughed a little awkwardly at Mito, who rolled her eyes and cast a pointed glance at the empty seat beside him.

“Watch yourself,” she said. “He’ll be here sooner than you think.”

“I know.” He tried to make the words sound flippant, but his throat was far too dry for that and the two syllables came out more like a gargle, prompting a smirk from Mito. “Not funny,” he mumbled before directing his gaze away from her and towards the entrance of the grand hall instead. Soon, the one he was waiting for would come marching through those double doors, the green tie symbolic of his house tossed carelessly against his robes as he parted the crowds to reach his side.

He could not help smiling at the thought. Even though he was a Gryffindor and Madara a Slytherin, the Uchiha had started to come over to the Gryffindor table to eat ever since they became friends, ignoring any and all ensuing social stigma. He did so to the extent that the Gryffindors eventually began to save his seat for him instead of giving him hostile, suspicious glares, and inter-house tensions fell dramatically after that development. Now, four years since Madara had first inserted himself into Gryffindor territory, the majority of students in Hogwarts seemed to have lost their reverence for the unspoken one-house-per-table rule—a prime example being Mito, who was technically a Hufflepuff.

Hashirama looked at the technicolor of students around him and sighed blissfully. Madara was the best—and nothing would ever convince him otherwise.

“He’s coming!” Mito clapped a hand on Hashirama’s arm, causing him to jump and nearly spill his drink in the process. He snapped his gaze away from the entryway and turned towards his breakfast instead, deciding that eating his food was probably a safer option for his nerves than watching Madara approach him. And so, by the time the Uchiha came to the table, Hashirama was too busy shoveling eggs into his mouth to say hello.

“You seem enthusiastic today,” Madara commented as he sat down beside him. “Is the food exceptionally good today or something? I haven’t seen you this energetic before.”

Hashirama just nodded vigorously. In all honestly, right now the eggs in his mouth tasted more like cardboard than anything else—he simply did not have the attention to spare, at least not when every bit of his conscious was attuned to the person sitting beside him. Madra’s hair, already shoulder length now, was still slightly damp from his morning shower, and the dark strands fell just so before his eyes in a way that made Hashirama’s throat itch.

He swallowed with difficulty, and when he finally manage to speak his could barely hear the words over the sound of his own pounding heart. “Hey, Madara, I……”

“What?”

“I……”

“Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“I……uh, how’s your brother doing right now? I um, haven’t seen you around with him a lot lately.”

“You mean Izuna?” Madara asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He seemed to be taken aback by the question, but all too soon his enthusiasm when it came to all things Izuna overtook him. “Ah, Izuna’s been up to a lot lately! Just yesterday he was telling me about……”

Hashirama watched with a helpless smile as Madara went on to describe all his precious brother’s adventures with shining eyes. He also pretended not to see Mito’s facepalm from across the table. Alright, so he’ll admit that he’s afraid—but how could he not be? Even though he was sure he had made up his mind already, the thought of Madara turning away from his confession in shock or worse, in disgust still terrified him like nothing else.

And yet, of course he still wanted him to know.

His eyes softened as he gazed at a still-enthusiastically rambling Madara, taking care only to clench his fists under the table where his friend could not see. I’ll try again after class, I suppose, he said to himself with a mental sigh.

 

***

 

He learned nothing in class that day, as was to be expected. After the last course of the day was over, he only wandered out of the classroom in a daze, meandering into the hallway as his mind swirled with a thousand and one potential scenarios, each one more bizarre than the last. Madara’s schedule was completely different from his own, and they would usually only see each other after lessons were concluded—normally his favorite part of the day, but now he only felt lightheaded when he thought about it, because what if, what if?

“—Hashirama? You’re spacing out again.” He nearly leapt out of his skin, and it was only then that he realized that Madara had arrived at some prior point in time. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pressed thin, the very paragon of annoyance, but Hashirama could still see his friend’s genuine concern for him embedded in the depths of his eyes. “You’ve been acting strange all day. If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought someone’s confounded you, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ahaha, sorry, I’ve just had some things on my mind I guess……”

“Like what?”

“Uh, yeah about that……”

“Is it something difficult to talk about?” Madara asked, lifting an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic stutters and mumbles. “You could wait on it if you wanted to, you know. I’m not the type to beat it out of you.”

“…Yeah, I know that.” Hashirama bit his lip, swallowing the words that had already begun to take shape on his tongue. “I’ll definitely tell you tonight though,” he said instead.

Madara tilted his head to the side in a quizzical manner. “Well, suit yourself, I suppose.” He shrugged once as if to prove a point, before suddenly seizing Hashirama’s hand and dragging him out towards the castle’s exit. “Come along. I want to show you something.”

“…Eh?!” The moment Madara grabbed his hand, Hashirama could only describe the sensation as being lightning-struck, with his whole body numb and only his heart jolting like a wild horse, as if it were ready to leap from his chest. His tongue worked dumbly in his mouth, trying desperately to say something more—anything more—but the effort just proved to be too much. He subsided and contented himself with the sensation of Madara’s hand holding his instead, the tingling of long, slender fingers clasping his own.

It was at that moment he truly felt that he could fly. Even though his broomstick was still locked up in the Quidditch shed.

 

***

 

It was only until they had reached the keeping area for the school’s magical beasts that Madara let go of his hand. “Here we are,” the Uchiha said, pulling out his wand to unlock the heavy wooden doors before them. It took him less than a moment.

“What’s in here?” Hashirama asked, discreetly closing his hand as if that would help him retain the warmth of Madara’s palm. “I don’t remember coming to this keep during the Care of Magical Creatures class last year.”

“You’ll see once we’re inside.” Madara pushed the door until it was open just wide enough for one person to squeeze through, gesturing for Hashirama to go in first. “Well? After you.”

Hashirama complied. He stepped into the interior of the keep, and froze as soon as he was completely inside. “Whoa,” he breathed.

The inside of the keep was unlike anything he had expected. All around him now he could see the soaring forms of mountains, and beneath his feet was the rough, rocky patchwork of a valley floor. There was even a mountain stream tinkling merrily a few paces before him—he could even see the sunlight reflecting off the water’s surface. It was the most expansive, the most realistic magical space he had ever been in.

“Madara, what is this place? What kind of creature requires a magical holding keep of this scope?”

The Uchiha only laughed in response, a wild, carefree sound that took his breath away. “Watch,” he said, before giving a sharp whistle.

A powerful wind picked up upon Madara’s summons, and Hashirama was forced to squint. Through his blurred gaze, he saw a pearly white dragon descend out of the sky, landing before Madara with a mere swoop of its wings. It seemed to know Madara well already, judging by the way it nudged its head against Madara’s shoulder.

Hashirama a little dazedly as Madara reached out his hand, slender fingers gently stroking the dragon’s neck, his dark leather gloves contrasting sharply against pearly scales. The dragon at this point had its eyes narrowed to slits at this point, practically purring as Madara lavished affection upon it. He felt a slight prickle in the back of his throat—it had never occurred to him that he could be so jealous of a fantastical creature before that moment. “What type of dragon is it?” he heard himself ask.

“She,” Madara corrected immediately. “She’s an Antipodean Opaleye, hailing from Australia, though her species is natively from New Zealand. I’ve been her caretaker since she was a few weeks old, almost three months by now. She’s the school’s latest project of interest. You can come and pet her if you’d like.”

Hashirama did not move. Though he had never seen an Opaleye dragon in person, he knew that they were still capable of spitting flames up to several meters away should they feel threatened. “Is that, uh, allowed?”

Madara chuckled. “I promise she won’t hurt you, Hashirama. Really.”

“If you say so……” Hashirama took a deep breath before finally daring to approach the duo, giving the dragon a cautious pat on the head. Up close, she was a good bit smaller than Hashirama had originally thought, even a little shorter than Madara. “How long will it take her to reach full size?” he asked out of curiosity.

“About two years. When her wingspan reaches full size, she’ll be a complete adult,” Madara replied. The pride in his voice was blatant, even righteous, as if he were referring to his own child. “When that time comes, she’ll rival an African elephant in size, and when she flies her wings would blot out half the sky—much more impressive than you or I on our quidditch brooms.” He gave the dragon one last scratch behind the ears before stepping back. “She’ll be the ruler of these lands one day,” he finished with absolute certainty.

The dragon seemed to sense Madara’s departure, and when she raised her head towards the two of them she opened her eyes fully for the first time—they were pupil-less and brilliant, filled with multi-colored flecks of light like the opals for which her kind was named. She stared at them deeply for a moment, and at last she let out a resounding roar, spreading her wings and catapulting into the heavens.

Madara turned his head to watch her go, the look in his eyes outshining even the Opaleye’s technicolor gaze, as if he was already envisioning his full-grown dragon domineering the skies. The slight curve of his lips in no way diminished the sharpness of his gaze—only bolstered it if anything, like a whetstone to a fine blade.

Hashirama did not know why his chest tightened upon seeing the Uchiha like this. He only felt, as if the very next moment Madara would follow in the dragon’s wake, spread his own wings and depart for some far off place where Hashirama could never follow. Madara leaving……the very thought made his lungs freeze.

I can’t drag this on any longer, he said to himself. For some reason, he knew he could not give Madara the chance to leave him, to even consider leaving him, ever. Because somehow Hashirama knew he would never come back.

“Madara,” he heard himself say. “Do you have time to come by the lake tonight?”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about what I wanted to talk to you about earlier. Something very important to me. Will you come?”

“To the usual place, right?” Madara absentmindedly swept his bangs aside, and in that moment Hashirama only wanted to drag his fingers across the newly exposed skin. “Should be fine. I’m assuming after dinner?”

“……Yes,” he managed to rasp.

“Hm, alright. I’ll see you later tonight then.”

 

***

 

They had first met under an old willow tree. According to many a student, this willow tree had once been an enchanted one, viciously attacking any and all creatures who approached it. As a result, even though the willow had now been peaceful for years, most people gave it a wide berth nonetheless—not that Hashirama minded. It had been one of the only places he could go when in need of some seclusion.

When he had first come to the school seven years ago, tensions between the houses still ran high—especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Relations between these two houses were often strained, even belligerent, to the point where every year at least a handful of students would be suspended or expelled for private dueling.

At the time, Hashirama would often leave the school and seek out the places frequented by the least number of people possible, solely for the purpose of escaping the choking atmosphere. It gained him a bit of a reputation as an eccentric at first, but he never once regretted it, for without such tendencies he would have never met Madara under the tree formerly called the Whomping Willow.

He still remembers that the first time he saw him, Madara was skipping stones in the shade of the tree, his green Slytherin tie tossed carelessly over a branch, almost blending in with the leaves. “You’re a Gryffindor,” he had said upon turning around and seeing Hashirama’s tie, and in that moment how had he responded?

“……No, I’m not,” he had rebuked quietly, in his awkward, pre-teen voice that had yet to fracture and expand. He had stepped forward, towards Madara, and he had held out his hand to him saying: “I’m not a Gryffindor. I’m only Senju Hashirama. What about you?”

And in the instant when Madara had met his eyes and smiled, he knew that everything in his life had fallen into place.

 

“So, what did you want me for?” In the present, Hashirama looked towards the source of the voice, and he finally sees the one he had been waiting for. His hair was as dark and unruly as ever—his tie was tossed carelessly over one shoulder and he still wore the same black leather gloves from the dragon keep, but Hashirama loved all of it. He loved all of him.

He almost wanted to laugh at himself now because it all seemed so simple—he loved someone, truly, and he wanted that someone to know. It was more than enough to calm his racing heart.

“Madara,” he began quietly, and as he spoke more and more of the world seemed to fall away until it was just the two of them left, standing on the edge of infinite possibility. “I…don’t actually know how long it’s been, but I’ve liked you for a very long time now. I think I might even love you, no—I know it. Maybe I’ve even known for a while. You don’t have to reciprocate my feelings, or even accept them for that matter, but I just wanted you to know that I never want to go back to those days before I met you again. So no matter what you want to do in the future—whether you want to rule Heaven and Earth, or just be a simple recluse in the mountains—please bring me along, will you? I promise that I won’t ever be in your way. That’s my only request.”

The whole time he had spoken, Madara had only stared at him silently, his eyes flickering, burning. It was only once Hashirama had spoken his last sentence that he lowered his gaze, seemingly deep in thought. Only after an eternity did he finally raise his gaze. “……Hashirama,” he said, “consider carefully. You are saying now, that no matter what my end goals are, no matter how the world turns out to be, you will still be happy to stay with me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Hashirama said, laughing. Somehow he felt lighter, as if a thousand years’ worth of guilt and grief had just dropped from his shoulders, leaving him ever closer to the heavens, closer to the galaxies that swirled in Madara’s eyes. “I cannot be more serious than I am now—this is the sound of my heart. Regardless of what happens in the world from now, I would never want to be parted from you again.”

“……Really,” Madara said softly, so softly Hashirama alsmot did not hear him. “And you won’t regret it?”

“Never. In fact, upon my life, I’m sure this is the most correct decision I’ve ever made.”

 

…………

……

…

.

 

Under the dark, vapid skies lay a silent world, a world where a time itself had been condemned to ennui. Across the endless span of blackened, scorched earth, only a single massive tree had sent its gnarled branches clawing into the sky, as if trying to tear down the blood-red moon that provided the land’s only source of light.

At the very top of the tree perched a beautiful man with snowy white hair and robes to match. A single vermillion eye stared unblinkingly from his forehead, fixed eternally towards the moon, but his own two eyes were usually closed, as was fitting for a god in meditation. He would not open them unless the occasion truly arose for it.

Today was one of those exceptions.

The real Uchiha Madara finally lifted his eyelids for the first time since eternity, revealing a pair of ringed amethysts that glimmered eerily in the crimson light. He sat silently for a moment, reflecting on all he had just seen, and at last a crystalline laugh spilled forth from the bottom of his heart, the sound reverberating throughout this empty world.

“……Hashirama,” he murmured, “so I have seen your heart’s desire. Since you truly wish for it to be so, then I, Uchiha Madara, will stay with you until your very soul disperses, until the end of the world.

 

“Consider it my last gift to you.”


End file.
